


The Call

by Librarity



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Oswald Cobblepot/Jim Gordon, Established Relationship, Gentleness, GobblepotSummer2019, Grieving Jim Gordon, Healing Cuddles, Men Crying, Minor Character Death, Shock, Shooting Guns, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-09 17:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19891933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Librarity/pseuds/Librarity
Summary: Oswald swallowed the watermelon, then a healthy portion of his drink, "I love you, Jim... I would do anything to make you happy, anything to keep you safe,  with me."They looked deep and long at each other,  searching, and finding things. Jim linked their fingers tightly,  holding on as if he was terrified it might be snatched away."Then never leave me, Oswald." Jim whispered,  voice full of meaning, "promise to stay with me forever..."GobblepotSummer2019





	The Call

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how summery it is but... I tried?

The call came in, the one every officer hated to hear above any other. It meant they could be walking into just about anything, any situation, any outcome. It meant a potential end, potential notifications, potential funerals. It meant a smile, a laugh, a friend, a partner might be snatched away from their grasp before they were ready.

“Officer down!”

The call went up into the air like a stun sent directly into the heart and every single person in the precinct was on their feet in a flurry of motion, everyone running for the door at once, projects or conversations abandoned. James Gordon was at the head of the pack. 

Red and blue flashing on every car as tires squealed, the sirens a loud, urgent wail cutting in mass through the preceding silence. Officers in uniform or in a suit and tie swarmed the location, the howl of ambulances crying just around the corner. They spread out like a nest of hornets, ready and willing to sting the offender wherever they may be.

Jim broke off with Harvey in one direction, quiet and careful, signaling Harvey around each turn of a hallway in the apartment building. They might have been fighting, might yell at each other more than talk once Jim made a few confessions; he had not even had the courage to confess just exactly who he was dating yet for that reason; but they naturally fell into sync when it came to times like this. Arguments were forgotten in these moments and they were simply partners, like always.

They rushed in together, sweeping the floors one by one. There were few places as difficult to search as apartment buildings; doors ahead, behind, and on all sides. 

The large pool of blood on the floor, streaked and dragging into one of the apartments was all the clue either of them needed. Harvey gave him a look, dread rimmed around his eyes as they moved in, opening the door quickly, leading with their guns.

The first thing he saw was a face looking up at him from the floor, skin white, eyes milky, and a pool of red creating a dark halo around his head. Jim’s heart seized, chest and throat too tight, his insides twisting up. He knew that face, had coffee with him that morning, laughed with him. He hugged him, told him to be careful. He watched his progress through Academy and went to his graduation, hired him on the spot.

The hesitant knock on the door, “Hey… mind if I come in, Gordon?”

Jim looked up, already grinning, “I always have time for my favorite new recruit!”

Connor Anderson chuckled, the tint of red in his cheeks giving away just how young and fresh he still was, still innocent enough to be embarrassed, “You’re biased.”

Jim chuckled, that happy thrill in his chest, “It’s not every day the kid next door to me graduates the Academy with honors!”

Connor shrugged, running a hand over his already perfectly well behaved hair, “With your help, you mean.”

Jim tapped his pen on the desk, “On your own power, Con, I had nothing to do with it.” He winked, "I just watched you outshine everyone else."

"Sure, sure, you're the boss, your word goes. But since you're in a good mood," Connor’s bright smile was nearly blinding, “I figured, since I work for you now, you should take me out to coffee.”

Jim arched a brow, fighting his own answering grin, “Is that right?”

Connor shrugged one shoulder, “Sure, I mean, remember that time my mom made too much lasagna and I shared?”

Jim waved a hand, already standing up, “Fine, fine, no need to trot out your secret weapon! I want the benefit of any future gifts from you mother, I’ll buy you coffee!”

“Starbucks?” Connor asked, big brown eyes hopeful.

Jim made a face of distaste, “Don’t push your luck! You’re spoiled on that stuff anyway! All that sugar.”

Connor put his hands on his hips, reminding Jim of his own posture habits, “Hey, do I make fun of your hot dogs even though they are death on bread?”

“ _Jim_!” Harvey shouted, nearly kicking him to get him to move as bullets began to fly from a bedroom and what he guessed was the kitchen.

In his dive, he found officer Camden, gasping for breath, blood drenching the front of his uniform. He was not conscious but he was still alive for the moment, unlike Connor. But Jim did not have time to let that sink in, not just yet. Jim and Harvey were considerably more experienced with surviving in tight spaces. The thought crossed Jim’s mind that if Camden and Anderson had been together longer, they might have had the chance to be as in since as he and Harvey.

The two of them took down the wanted bank robbers from Star City in around three minutes. One of them was still alive after they finished. Together he and Harvey worked to stop the bleeding on Camden’s wound until they were shoved to the side once the professionals arrived.

Jim ran a hand down his face the adrenaline rush leaving him the minute he set eyes one Connor again. The paramedics hardly spared Connor a moment, only enough to check his wound and check the time of death. He understood why, he did, but that did not mean he felt less like screaming at them to do more, to do something, to work a miracle.

The traitorous, treacherous thoughts rolling in his head again and again were the "why's". Why did Connor have to catch this call? Why hadn't Camden... warned him, maybe? Called for help sooner? It was only a disturbance call... he knew that. Neighbors complaining about some kind of noise, neighbors sighting suspicious behavior, so why did it have to be like this? If one of those neighbors had just told them who those men were; because they must have known, had to know if they watched the news, it had too have been the real reason they called; if someone had told them the truth it wouldn't have happened. 

Why did it have to be Connor? Not that he wanted it to be anyone else exactly, he didn't, but he just... didn't want it to be Connor. He didn't want it to be anyone, of course not, he didn't but...

He felt shaky, lost, and his chest hurt like being stabbed repeatedly, enough that he checked to be sure there was nothing. He watched the paramedics cart Camden out on a stretcher and stood over Connor, watching his chest, sure in some moments he saw it move. He knew he could not will him back and yet his mind clung to the foolish, childlike hope that his eyes were wrong, instincts were wrong. He checked for a pulse no less than four times regardless of the fact that there was a bullet through the side of his skull. It did not seem real because deep down he could not accept the reality.

It was like being jolted back into his body when Harvey took him by the arm and moved him into the hall, “Do you want me to… notify his family?”

It was a shockingly kind offer considering things in the past, considering their fights. Harvey was offering him a greet deal in that moment, he knew it, but he couldn't really think about it yet. 

“No,” the answer punched out of Jim even though all he wanted to do was say yes, felt like he couldn’t ever say another word because his throat was too tight to let more than air pass, “I’ll do it.”

“Are you… are you sure?” Harvey pressed, eyeing him like he expected him to unravel.

Jim nodded like his head wasn’t even attached to his body, “I’ll do it. It’s my job.” His responsibility. His duty. 

Jim turned on his heel, pressing past the crowd of officers and bystanders. He could hardly make them out beyond a blur of shapes, but Harvey followed anyway, “Jim, you need to go to the precinct… to change first.”

Jim looked down and his heart all but jumped from his chest. It was all he could do not to publicly rip all his clothes off, anything to get the red away. He did not move, not even a twitch, his mental walls locking into place like slamming metal doors. His practiced composure slide over him as he felt himself shut down hard and tight, everything put on lockdown. He did not even remember how he got back to the precinct, had no idea where he put his stained clothing, and he did not remember arriving at the Anderson house. All the same, as if robotically, he walked beside another officer and had no idea who, could not manage to look at a face, he only stared at the green door he had to knock on. 

He could not feel things, not now, he did not have the luxury to feel anything when he had to be strong for everyone else around him. It was his duty to be the rock, the support for everyone else. Even if it killed him inside where no one could see. He had no right to worry about his feelings now anyway, not when there were so many others hurting, or about to be hurting. 

He hesitated only a second, hardly enough to notice, before he rang the bell, standing tall and stiff. Things got blurry again after Connor’s mother let out an ungodly scream when she saw the somber looking officers on her front steps. He remembered her launching at him, half crazed, screaming denials and accusations at once.

“No, it can’t be! You said you’d look after him!”

He remembered putting his arms around her when her knees buckled and he remembered carrying her inside while the neighbors peeked out their windows. He remembered seeing Connor sitting on the couch, laughing at an embellished story Jim told him, only now there was nothing to smile about. He knew he addressed his people at the precinct an indeterminable point in time later, giving a speech he did not know the words to. Beyond any of that he did not remember what he said or what he did. 

It was not his day to spend the night at Oswald’s house, they were supposed to stay at his as they both worked it the city the next day. Since they began discretely dating a few months before, they had never strictly moved in together, bouncing from Jim’s home to Oswald’s, trading sleeping arrangements depending on convenience. It seemed not to have stopped him from driving over to Oswald’s home as his feet crunched over the gravel driveway. His head was pounding and he could not think anymore, tired like the life had been drained directly from him. All he really knew now was the terrible ache in his chest and the need to be with Oswald, to be with the only person he was safe in every way with. He needed a safe place to crumble into the hundreds of pieces he had been holding together by willpower and necessity.

* * *

For the final time, Oswald mentally went over his checklist, trying to be sure he had not missed anything in his overnight bag. He would be staying with Jim the next few nights so he should really be sure to prepare for that and not have to run home for something silly. He had been considering just buying a second set of everything to simply leave at Jim’s but he had not done so yet.

He did not like to presume such things were acceptable and he had yet to muster up the nerve to ask. He did not have any desire to rock the delicate balance they had. He was not afraid, per se, but the idea that something could throw them off occurred to him often.They were comfortable, even rather domestic at times, but he still could not banish the nagging worries hiding in the back of his head.

Jim would have asked him to move things over if he wanted to have things cluttering his space. It would be presumptuous to take that sort of leap. Jim might say yes to be kind even if he did not like it.

Oswald drummed his fingers on his desk, mulling it over. He had even toyed with the idea of simply buying another house in the city they could both live in and keep the country house for a more romantic location. Still, that was even more of a presumptuous leap.

The drum of his fingers sped up. How exactly was one supposed to ask their boyfriend that question? Let alone ones police boyfriend when the added challenge would be hiding his personal criminal activity. If they lived together, how was he supposed to hide those little secrets? Have secret passages built into the home? No... it was better to simply deal with shuffling his things around for the foreseeable future.

After Falcone dragged his daughter away, to parts far from jurisdiction orders, things had just sort of fallen into place. Once Oswald helped Jim be rid of issues like the Pyg, things were essentially fine again. With Pyg dead, and the Falcone's gone, it was easy. 

The city was more or less peaceful. He and the Captain just sort of... happened. It was apparently the answer to his question of where it would leave the two of them. It left them with each other, particularly after Pyg made a few gleeful confessions before he died.

Jim never wavered, never flinched, not once, but Oswald knew he wasn't exactly on sure footing anymore. He went on as if nothing had happened, locked away behind his badge that he used as a shield in every respect. He was more determined than ever to make Gotham perfect and his aversion to working with Oswald to get that had faded after Sofia, now he wanted a clean Gotham at any cost. 

The relationship had been an accident, it was something they fell into. Cleaning up Sofia's chaos brought them together frequently, and one night Jim had come to him, shaken over an argument with Harvey, and drinks turned into an embrace, which turned into more. It was not the time to push for more, not when they were so new. Maybe in a year, he could wait that long. 

He turned from his contemplation only to jump nearly out of his skin, hand landing over his suddenly racing heart, trying to remember if he had been muttering, "Jim! I wasn't expecting you!" Jim made no sound at all coming it so he hoped he had not said anything out loud, "What are you doing here?"

Oswald's heart jumped for a different reason as he looked at Jim. He looked hollowed out, eyes glazed and lifeless. As he ambled forward, he could not even seem to walk right, steps unsteady. He looked dazed and almost confused, like he hardly saw anything or was aware of his surroundings.

"Jim?" Oswald's voice had gone up a full octave as he rushed to him, running his hands everywhere, checking for blood or injuries. 

There were no visible signs of injury as he checked him over, but Jim was hardly well, anyone could see it. There was scarcely a response from Jim even after being prodded, he simply stood there, meekly allowing himself to be examined. 

"Jim, what happened, talk to me! Are you hurt? Are you sick?" He was trying not to panic but he was not doing an exceptional job, "please talk to me!"

"There was blood on my clothes." Jim told him, voice howled out and brittle. 

The panic rose higher, "What blood? What happened?"

Something shaky and fragile took over Jim's voice, pushing out the hollow quality with something equally as worrying, "I was supposed to keep him safe... he wasn't supposed to get hurt..."

Oswald's gut twisted, multiple bad scenarios and faces coming to mind, "Who, Jim, who wasn't supposed to get hurt?"

Oswald saw the crack in Jim's defenses, almost heard it breaking, splintering like a glass spider web in a picture window. Pieces began to fall away, everything crumbling in slow motion as Jim's stoic facade crashed to the floor like thrown China cups. 

Jim let out a horrible, agonized cry before he surged forward and buried his face in Oswald's shoulder, arms wrapping around him desperately. It was almost terrifying to watch the man break before his eyes, shaking with quiet sobs that seemed wretched from his very depths. He had never seen Jim fall apart, he had seen many things from him, but never this; and he knew no one was allowed to see this, not usually, not from Jim. The walls were always shut tight when he was hurt, protective spines grown up all around him, the locks on the doors visible in his expression and tight stances. 

Publicly, nothing could shake Jim and Oswald had wondered if he even broke when he was locked up in his own home or if he bottled it up so deep no one could touch it. Jim would do many things, but never cry, never be out of control, never vulnerable. Only now... he was, and he'd come right to Oswald, which said so much more than a million words could have. 

Here, in Oswald's home office, he felt safe enough to fall apart the way he couldn't publicly. Oswald held him fiercely, trying to tell him with sensation that he was safe, that he would do anything to hold him together, that he would fight off anything or anyone that tried to get between them, that he would protect Jim with all his strength. 

When Jim's legs started to shake, his knees threatening to give out, Oswald tugged him quickly to his leather couch and deposited them both onto it. Jim was gasping for air, struggling for control, but Oswald wanted him to understand he didn't have to be.

"It's okay, whatever you need, it's okay. You'll always be safe here. If you need too... not be okay, that's fine."

Jim's voice cracked on a whine and he curled around the smaller man instantly, like a child clinging to a teddy bear. His entire body was shaking, quiet little sobs overwhelming the rest of him. Oswald held on tighter, pushing gently until he and Jim were laid out on the couch, legs twinned together, arms tangled around each other, foreheads pressed together. 

The great, unshakable Captain trembled like a leaf, destroyed and shattered by events Oswald could only guess at. He desperately wanted to ask but he did not want to push beyond what Jim could endure, not as fragile as he was. 

All he could do was sink his fingers into Jim's hair too massage his scalp, raking his fingers through it over and over. Careful touches like skating his fingers over his chest, arms, sides, and cupping his jaw to hold it just so, those were things he could do. Oswald let each gentle caress express his support, be a grounding force as much as possible. 

They lay together that way, the world outside growing darker as time marched on without them. Their world stood still, silent as a statue. Jim calmed slowly, tears drying gradually until he finally closed his eyes in seeming sleep, though Oswald knew he was awake even if not fully present in the room. 

It startled Oswald when Jim finally spoke. 

"I destroy everything and everyone around me. I'm a monster!" Jim whispered, voice quivering, a confession of anguish. 

"Jim... that's not true, darling. Not at all."

Jim smiled but it was a tired and sad imitation, "You know better than most how true it is. The decay of my touch has reached you many times. I'm a curse on you as much as anyone, and more."

Oswald struggled for something to reply, "If indeed you are a curse, it has turned time and time again into something beautiful. Perhaps I'm your curse breaker."

Jim's chuckle was dark and lacking humor, "Maybe, but you can't break them all."

It seemed as good a moment as any to ask, "What happened, Jim?"

There was no reply for loung enough that Oswald stopped expecting one, "Connor knew... about us. He's the only one I told. Harper knows, and a few others, like Lucius. But Connor was the only one I told. He asked, and I... told him. He was hesitant about it but he thought it was romantic, like star crossed lovers."

A knot tightened around Oswald's chest as a picture formed in his mind of bright eyes, contagious laugh, and a big, knowing grin, "He was at your house a few days ago, wasn't he?" He did not like the implications he was gleaning of Connor's fate. 

"Yeah, he stopped by to give me case files but... I think he just wanted to see you in person." Jim seemed to choke on air for a moment, "He... was always good at finding out what he wanted and he was as curious about us as a high schooler. Thought it was cute." Jim's lip trembled first, then the tears began to roll down his checks again. 

Before Oswald could try to wipe them away, Jim was burrowed into his neck, sobbing, "They killed him, they killed him, they killed him..."

Tears began to run don't Oswald's checks too, he couldn't help it. Seeing Jim like this broke his heart too and all he wanted to do was fix it, make it better.

He held Jim tight, peppering kisses to his temple, his own voice choked, "Oh, baby, I'm so sorry, so very sorry!"

Jim wept for some time after while Oswald held him close, whispering sweet words into his ear. Eventually Jim fell asleep and once he was sure Jim was too exhausted to wake easily, he wiggled off the couch. It was not his most graceful moment but he escaped without waking Jim. He took his leave of the room silently and made his way to the kitchen to find Olga. 

If he made a call on the way there that he could never tell Jim about, well, no one needed to know about that. The call got him up to speed with exactly what occurred and how Jim's Connor found his end, from there it was simple. He was saving all the other officers from making a mistake, because in cases where a well loved boy like Connor was snuffed out, someone was going to make a try for his remaining killer. It was better, Oswald reasoned, that he give the order to have the last man pass away in the hospital bed.

He instructed Olga to ready some snacks for Jim and himself. He might not have explained everything but she gathered enough from it all. 

She shook her head, "Mr Jim sad, but we make him feel better."

Oswald sighed, "That is the idea... hopefully. Pick out a movie, something distracting, nothing sad."

She nodded like a soldier given a command, "Happy things, yes! Perk up his spirit."

Her English had really improved over time, it had. With moderately high hopes and another call to a florist to arrange for five large flower arrangements to be sent to Connor's funeral anonymously in the event there were not enough flowers. Heaven knew police officers did not make very much, so someone had to make sure it looked proper. Considering how much they risked their lives for so little money, he had no idea why people were shocked when some of them accepted bribes, but there was an issue for anther day. 

He returned only to find Jim lying awake again, watching his arrival with a cautious look in his eye and slack look on his face, "I thought we should have something to eat and watch a movie while we relax so we can eat in the living room."

Jim eyed him skeptically, "You hate eating in there."

Oswald sat down with him and leaned over him, "I can be spontaneous, Jim." He kissed him gentle and sweet, enjoying the softness of his lips. 

Jim blinked up at him, almost awed, "You don't have to."

"I want to." He kissed him again, lingering only a second, "I want to take care of you."

Jim scooted into a sitting position and buried his face in Oswald's neck again but this time there were no tears, he just held on. Oswald closed his eyes, nuzzling into the embrace before he kissed Jim's ear. 

He never tired of holding Jim and being held in return. It felt like home, deeper than walls and plaster, but _home_. 

He pulled away and took Jim's hand, tugging on his arm, "I know you haven't eaten today, you never do, you have to eat. Olga will be offended if you don't."

Jim did not fight, just meekly stood and moved directly back into Oswald's arms like he could not bring himself to leave. Hugs like these, even if they were steeped in sadness, felt like they were one person. It felt like tea in the morning and warm blankets on cold nights. 

The door sprung open suddenly, "Room ready, come now." Olga told them, and even Jim had to smile as they obediently followed her. 

There was a dish of watermelon waiting on them and icy little umbrella cocktails in the middle of what seemed to be Olga's idea of a pillow fort on the floor, blankets spread out over the floor. There was even a string of lights hanging above the whole thing and he had no idea how someone so short managed the hanging lights. 

Jim went directly for it, settling into the pillows immediately like he'd been waiting all day for exactly this arrangement. In a matter of minutes Jim had all but vanished amid the pillows and blankets like a seal diving under the waves. 

Oswald turned to Olga, unsure if he should thank her or ask what on earth she was up to, but then he noticed _Alice In Wonderland_ playing on the television and his mouth simply got stuck hanging open. 

"When having bad day, return to simple times." She told him by way of explanation, "Dinner ready soon. Eat watermelon till I finish."

She nearly shut the door in his face then, marking the end of the conversation. Oswald took a breath and turned to look at the mountain of pillows on his floor with no small amount of confusion. Ultimately, he accepted the situation and sank to the floor, careful of how much weight he put on his bad knee as he swam in under it all to find Jim. 

He slid up in front of the man, blanket and pillows pulled up like his own personal buffer against the world. Oswald rested his head on the same pillow with Jim, starring into those glazed eyes before he settled a hand over his, threading their fingers together. 

Jim closed his eyes before he closed the small gap between them, sealing his lips over Oswald's for a moment, "I told her once that my favorite things as a kid were pillow forts and watermelon. Though, I didn't necessarily mean together."

"She made us cocktails too," Oswald reminded. 

"That she did," Jim agreed quietly. 

They stayed that way for a long while, just starring at each other, closed off from the world save for Wonderland in the background. It was more intimate and peaceful than Oswald ever anticipated. Kissing seemed more intimate now as well, like they were far away from everything and could not be touched. 

They were only driven out when it began to get overly warm under it all. They crawled out and reclined atop their tiny, soft kingdom to drink their umbrella cocktails and eat their watermelon while watching Alice make her way from problem to problem. 

This would not solve everything, he knew it was only a distraction. Grief would return along with reality, but for now, Oswald could offer a tiny corner of protection. 

"I heard you on the phone." Jim whispered in his ear hesitantly even as Oswald froze in horror, waiting for whatever came next, "...I didn't make a call to stop it."

Oswald jerked Jim into a kiss before he could say more, frightened and happy at once. Jim was not the same man he had once been, but neither was Oswald. They changed each other and perhaps they were finally to the place where they could agreed to disagree. 

The taste of watermelon burst on his tongue and he wondered if that was the taste of a real understanding between them. 

Jim broke the kiss and rested their foreheads together, "Don't do it again."

Oswald nodded jerkingly, "Of course, Jim... I only wanted... to help."

Jim closed his eyes as if to block out the truth, "I know... I know you were. And... right or wrong... I let you."

Oswald could not tell what the feeling tingling his chest was but he pulled Jim into another kiss to avoid analyzing it. 

He still felt the need to explain when Jim broke away, "It's all I could do, Jim. I didn't know how else to make it better! I only hoped-"

"Thank you," Jim told him meaningfully, "for the flowers. It will mean a lot to them. It means a lot to me too."

"Anything for you, Jim." Oswald told him honestly, hoping against hope that Jim really understood that, "I-"

Jim slipped a piece of watermelon into his mouth to halt his confessions, "I know, and I love you, but let's pretend I never heard it."

Oswald swallowed the melon, then a healthy portion of his drink, "I love you, Jim... I would do anything to make you happy, anything to keep you safe, with me."

They looked deep and long at each other, searching, and finding things. Most of those things could not be expressed in words, exchanged from one soul to the other. Jim linked their fingers tightly, holding on as if he was terrified it might be snatched away. There was understanding on a level they had never touched before, the kind only some ever managed to share, a union unlike most, like puzzle pieces clicking together at the end of a puzzle. In that moment, perhaps they understood each other more than ever before. 

"Then never leave me, Oswald." Jim whispered, voice full of meaning, "promise to stay with me forever..."

Green and blue met and what they spoke of was love, shared secrets, heartache, failures, yes, but love most of all. This was, as some might call it, a hinge moment where everything changed. 

"Always," Oswald vowed, "with all my strength, I'll stay beside you."

Jim leaned forward and sealed the promise with a kiss. 

**_"I know who I was this morning, "_ **Alice said in her sweet voice, " _ **but I've changed a few times since then."**_

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this before I passed out last night.  
> Originally I posed it as a thought provoking prompt in the Gotham discord I'm in then I ended up writing it per demand. Here is your pain, my darlings!


End file.
